Gravity
by sam carter 1013
Summary: Written for the Op ficathon for ziparumpazoo, who requested: "The laws/properties of physics, as applied to Olivia and Peter."


Title: Gravity

Author: sam_carter_1013

Rating: PG-13, K+

Word count: 2100±

Pairing: Peter / Olivia

Spoilers: Up to "The day we died"

Disclaimer: Wyman and Pinkner are geniuses.

Writer's notes: Written for the Op_ficathon for ziparumpazoo, who requested: "The laws/properties of physics, as applied to Olivia and Peter."

I want to apologize for being ridiculously late, I really hope this live up to your expectations.

A humongous thank you to Elialys who managed to beta it just in time; and another one to Lone_Pyramid (and help) for taking the time to organize all this.

GRAVITY

Newton's law of universal gravitation states that every point mass in the universe attracts every other point mass with a force that is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them.

_Something always brings me back to you. _

_It never takes too long. _

_No matter what I say or do, I still feel you here 'till the moment I'm gone._

I.

Peter would always remember that day.

He remembered thinking in the middle of everything _I wasn't even going to come with her; I wasn't supposed to be here._

But for some reason, just after he handed her her coat, he felt this… thing, a tiny voice in his head telling him to go with her, and he didn't think, just turned and told Astrid he was going with Olivia, grabbed his coat and practically ran to catch up with her.

She drove fast, the sirens on; she had this look in her eyes, total concentration and determination; and it wasn't as if he never looked at her, but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Olivia.

When he had first seen the bomb, he had thought _Shit, we are screwed_, and had basically wanted to get the hell out of the building; he kept looking from Charlie to Olivia, not knowing exactly what to do; he became so anxious at one point, as Olivia was talking to Jones on the phone, and Charlie looked at him as if saying _You have to get her out of here_.

"Olivia, we gotta go."

But she didn't listen and he kept thinking _What are we waiting for? What are you expecting to do Olivia? _

She examined the device, looking for something that wasn't there, and then she hung up; Peter expected her to run until they were out of the building and hoped for the best.

"Okay, we need to get these people out of here."

He felt her beside him, and then she wasn't there anymore.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa! Where are you going? Olivia, we gotta go. What did Jones say? Olivia... "

But she just ignored him, so he grabbed her arm; her breathing was labored and there was fire in her eyes.

"I need to do this. There is no other way."

"If you stay here you are going to die. (And he didn't understand then why suddenly that thought scared him more than the bomb lodged in the window) I'm not doing this with you Olivia!" He waited for a reaction, but she didn't even blink, so he just walked off. "You're out of your mind."

He walked towards the elevators and pushed the button desperately, __, and he could not bear the idea of leaving her alone there.

So he went back.

_Who is out of his mind now, Bishop?_

(In the aftermath, he caught her in his arms and helped her sit on the carpet when her knees gave up on her, and he held her, alive and scared.)

Days later, he ran into Charlie on his way to see Olivia; he was just about to round a corner when Charlie stopped him, this weird look in his eyes.

"Why did you stay with Olivia?"

Peter tried to look like he had no idea what Charlie was talking about, like he hadn't been thinking about the same thing ever since it had happened, but if Charlie's expression was any indication, he was failing miserably. He had asked himself that question at least a hundred times, and the thing was… he really didn't like the answer.

"I don't know."

Charlie gave him a knowing smile and walked away.

He would always remember that day, because that was when he knew.

He was sooooo screwed.

II.

_**Na einai kalitero anthropo apon ton patera tou. **_

She was finally sleeping -he would love to say peacefully but he doubted it was the case, not after the day's events and all the pain she must be in (but of course she kept saying "I'm fine, I'm fine"); he was just glad she was getting some sleep.

He stayed long after everybody else was gone, and for a couple of hours after visiting hours were over, but the nurses hadn't kicked him out; it might have had more to do with the way he had been acting rather than with his appearance (because he looked like crap after almost two days straight without sleep).

The lamp beside the bed and the little light from the city allowed him to see her (he was going to bring her flowers in the morning, yellow ones, for friendship). Olivia had told him to go home hours ago, but he had just pretended not to hear her; he couldn't have left even if he had wanted to.

_Agent Dunham was in a car accident._

Fear. Cold.

_I'm afraid your friend's injuries were too severe._

A hole in his chest.

When he had heard those words, he had tried to come to terms with the news; he had wanted to punch something, to squeeze the life out of that doctor for even uttering those words, and then he'd had to take Walter home because the man was just losing it. Walter could actually lose it, Peter could not hope for that; the best he could do was drink his weight in alcohol and hope that it would numb him enough so that he would stop feeling.

He remembered the whiskey burning its way down his throat, he had already had too much, (he wasn't going to cry, he didn't cry anymore) and had felt so… lost. He looked lost. That pull he had felt for months was gone, he felt as if something had snapped, and so he had though _After the…funeral I'm leaving_._ There is nothing holding me here._

_We were too late for Olivia._

But she had woken up, saying those words (he would ask her in the morning about that), reminding him of forgotten things, of promises made during his childhood, reminding him that he had to protect.

He looked at her again; he thought he had lost her.

Then Broyles had told him about his meeting with the senate and the possibility of their division being shut down; when Olivia would get out of this hospital only to find that the Fringe Division was no more, it was going to destroy her; he was just not going to allow it. He had a purpose now, and he was going to fight for it.

_We are never going to be late for you, Olivia, I'm not going to be late again._

He stood from the chair, his muscles protesting from being in the same position for hours. He approached the bed, taking her in once more; she was beautiful. Peter brushed her hand with his tenderly, so softly that she didn't move.

"I'm going to take care of you."

He had a reason to stay now, by choice.

_You hold me without touch. _

_You keep me without chains. _

_I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain._

III.

Peter would always remember in which circumstances he had met Olivia; he wasn't referring to the lies and how she had blackmailed him in Iraq, or how she had made him get Walter out of St. Claire's; he was referring to the motive behind it all: to save John, the man she loved.

He would always remember the selflessness, the strength and the passion; he remembered feeling jealous of John, because apart from his mother, he didn't remember anybody loving him that much in his life; in that moment, he had wished (unconsciously) that someday _he_ would inspire all of those feelings in Olivia, that someday he would be worthy of her.

That thought, however, hadn't crossed his mind from the moment he had seen his father standing in that hotel room, until the moment he had met the other Olivia; he knew he had made the wrong choice from the beginning, but he had felt heartbroken, cheated, lied to; so he had left, thinking that she would never follow, that he was somehow not as important to her as she was to him.

Hours later, Olivia proved him wrong in every possible way.

When she started talking, he thought he knew what she was going to say; that he had to come back for Walter, for their job. He knew she would never ask him to go back for her, for the only reason he was truly willing to go back. And then she just surprised him.

"Because you belong with me."

_I 've never met anyone who can do the things that you do._

To bring souls back, to make people stop running, to make him feel alive again.

He stood there, not really believing her words, or rather not believing that she had just said that. And the kiss? The kiss took him by surprise, and it took him a few seconds to respond; but then he felt it again, that force, that force that always pulled him to her.

He wrapped his right arm around her small waist, pulling her closer, kissing her deeply until his lungs demanded oxygen; when they broke the kiss, he nuzzled the side of her face with his, his anger disappearing; Olivia looked up at him, and he recognized that look: selflessness, strength, passion.

Her arms around him were holding him so hard that he was sure she was going to break a rib, her face now resting in the crock of his neck, his arms responding in kind.

"I've missed you so much."

Those were her only words before she started trembling in his arms, and he felt her tears on his skin.

He felt complete again.

IV.

They were in an office again; it was not the one where she had blurted those words out, though.

_Because he doesn't love her._

_Really, Olivia? Do you think I don't love you?_

She was tapping the table with her pen, her free hand in her hair as she held the bangs back; she was also doing that thing with her mouth.

He would have loved to postpone the conversation they were about to have, but seeing her like this… maybe he was doing her more bad than good.

"Olivia…" She looked up from the papers; he could tell she was not sleeping again. "I have been thinking… and I…" He stopped; this was going to be so much harder than he'd thought it would be, but he had to do it. "I threw my old suitcase away a few months ago; I'd had it since I left home."

Olivia looked at him, not understanding what he was saying.

"I threw it away one day when I just… it was just _there_, and I realized that I no longer needed it." Olivia's eyes grew bigger as his words started to sink in. "I thought… no, I _realized_ that working with you, it was the first time I didn't feel like I had to have a bag ready just in case I felt like leaving in a hurry; I felt like I had something here… and I don't want to leave, but…"

As he was looking right at her, he saw the surprise and the pain in her eyes.

"Peter…"

"Just let me finish, please."

Olivia nodded.

God, this hurt so much.

"I keep thinking that I should give you a choice, that…that I have been selfish too many times for the wrong reasons, and I don't want to make this harder, for anybody, so…If you want me to leave, I will."

Olivia's expression went from surprised to panicked in a second.

_No, please, don't go, don't leave me._

Olivia didn't know what to say; part of her wanted to scream at him, and yet at the same time, she wanted to cuff him to the chair so he could never go. She didn't want him gone; it was very honorable of him to offer, but if he went… she took a deep breath, trying to say the right words.

"We are both adults, Peter; I think we can handle this. This will pass. It doesn't feel like it now, but it will. But I also understand that the situation has been uncomfortable, so if you want to go…"

"I didn't say I wanted to go, I said that if you wanted me to, I would. I want to be here. I belong here."

He bore his eyes into hers, aware of the significance his words; but it was the truth. All those years he had spent running away, he hadn't really been running away. He had been looking. And all that walking, and running, and searching, had brought him here.

He had been attracted to this placed, to her, like a beacon.

_I haven't giving up on us; I'm not giving up Olivia._

Olivia blushed, but she composed herself again in a second, her expression a mixture of strength and something else that he had only seen once in her.

"I appreciate the offer Peter, but you don't have to go. Walter needs you, and so does the FBI."

_I need you too._

"Okay."

Olivia went back to her folders.

If it had been a possibility in that moment, he would have held her and kissed her until he convinced her that he loved her; but he wasn't allowed yet. It was okay, though.

She wasn't giving up on them either.

V.

"Olivia Dunham… my wife… was everything to me. When we first met, I was a... a nomad, moving from place to place… job to job; she gave me a purpose… she taught me to believe in something bigger than myself… she taught me to fight… to keep our world safe… and more recently to keep it from dying… the truth is we are all dying… from the moment we are born we are all dying… and the universe is unspeakably cruel… our one hope is that we can find some… purpose, some… meaning before that last day comes… some happiness… and love; Olivia was all that to me… there was no one like her… but I will not… cease to fight. Now that she is gone, I'm afraid I'm already lost… that we are all lost; the world is a darker place without her."

Peter never knew that he had met Olivia as a kid; that he had gravitated towards her from the moment he had seen her, that, as his father had put it, he had been captivated by her.

Peter never knew that long before Olivia saved him, he had saved her, giving her the strength and hope she had needed to fight.

What he knew was that she was dead, now, that he couldn't breathe, that he was lost again.

But there was a choice. He could do something about it.

All those times he had come back to her, all those times he had decided to stay, to do everything for her, Olivia had never asked; the closest she had come to ask had been her 'declaration of love'. But he had done it all for her; everything had been for her, just like this would be.

_Consequences be damn,_ he thought. There was no way he could keep on living without her; there was no way he could stand it.

Standing inside of the machine again, knowing what would happen just a second before it happened, he knew that everything would be alright. Because they had always been connected; they had always been pulled towards each other, and she would be his compass as he found his way back.

He would come back, for her.

Fin


End file.
